


soft rains

by byeolbit



Category: VIXX
Genre: Gen, Minor Swearing, Post Apocalypse AU, VIXXMas2020, prompt fill from dreamwidth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byeolbit/pseuds/byeolbit
Summary: So Taekwoon intertwines their fingers and holds onto Hongbin's hand tighter, determined not to let the yearning for yesterday pull him away from the one he loves.
Relationships: Jung Taekwoon | Leo/Lee Hongbin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: 2020 party!





	soft rains

The sky turns blood red from orange. The sky has been painted in shades of red, ever since the fateful day when hellfire rained and destroyed everything in its wake. The only difference today is the littering of red tinged clouds high in the sky.

Taekwoon adjusts his mask, trying not to breathe too deeply since his oxygen stores are running low. He’s running on fumes and he still has miles to go before he reaches the rundown supermarket that the refugees forage. The canned food expired months ago but something is better than nothing since the government aid doesn’t reach these areas.

Taekwoon doesn’t want to think of what will happen once the food starts running out.

The land around him is arid. There are ruins of buildings but beyond that there are vast stretches of dry land coated with black sulphuric ash. There have been no rains as of late. Summer is ending, if his approximation of the seasons is correct. Maybe it will rain soon, he thinks as the stray clouds in the sky gather. It will be water with high levels of acid dissolved in, burning everything it touches, forcing them deep underground again for some days. But it will be rain.

“There will come soft rains” he mutters to himself, as he gazes at the lonely surroundings. The poem comes to his mind often these days, as he thinks of life beyond the foraging. He doesn’t remember the name of the poet or the lines but he remembers the title and the meaning and thinks of how he never thought he would be living past the apocalypse.

The soft piano music on the radio, the view from his favourite cafe, the smell of fried chicken from the street vendor on the corner of the block. These are remnants of a life that will never return. A lifetime ago but it might as well be a previous birth. The fresh breath of air on a walk along the Han River has been replaced by laboured breathing with a mask because the sulphur levels have been too high. The complaining whenever his parents visited has been replaced by crying by their photo. Taekwoon doesn’t even remember the last time he saw birds flying in the sky.

“Appreciating the breathtaking beauty of our surroundings?” Hongbin asks, walking over to stand next to him. He has been tasked with foraging for clothes. Taekwoon thinks he was successful from the looks of the heavy box he has in his arms. He places it down and some fabric peaks out. Light blue. A colour he hasn’t seen in a while.

Hongbin used to have a deep voice, a voice in the back of his head reminds him. But now it’s mechanical and filtered through the oxygen mask he dons. He had the softest lips, always strawberry flavoured from his favourite chapstick. His shoulders were broad and Taekwoon would lay upon them at the end of a long day. Hongbin grumbled but always let Taekwoon be affectionate.

The sass has not changed and Taekwoon knows it is one of the few constants left. Jaehwan’s optimism is gone, Wonshik no longer laughs or jokes with him. Gone are the simple childish insecurities Sanghyuk once had. Replaced with a steely determination to help Hakyeon who thinks of nothing but how to survive the situation they find themselves in.

Wonshik once said it was fate that the six of them met. Taekwoon can’t think of that thought without the veil of irony inspired by their present circumstances.

“How is it that the world changed, our lives changed and everything we know changed but you are still a sentimental fucker?” Hongbin asks, punching his shoulder. "How come you still haven't changed?"

“Maybe I am just stubborn” Taekwoon says. He looks back out to the path he’s trailed. There are ghosts of dead trees, collections of ash around burnt wood that will collapse once the storms start. If Jaehwan and Wonshik’s plan works, they will leave this place soon. Taekwoon has already committed the place to memory. But there is no use of that now when they plan to plunge themselves into an uncertain future. What good is the memory of a floating buoy by the shore when sailing into a stormy sea?

“Come on, we should get out of here” Hongbin says.

He holds his hand out and Taekwoon takes it. He struggles to carry that box of clothes with one hand but does not let go of Taekwoon’s. It’s another thing that hasn’t changed. Hongbin is still here for him, still a source of comfort and still doggedly determined to protect him. To protect them, come hell or high water. If Taekwoon has retained some of his older self, then Hongbin has retained most of it. So he intertwines their fingers and holds onto his hand tighter, determined not to let the yearning for yesterday pull him away from the one he loves. From one who is still here.

The sky thunders. Hell is already here but high water will be upon them soon so Taekwoon quickens his pace.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from [here](https://vixxmas.dreamwidth.org/2586.html?thread=219930#cmt219930), title inspired by [this poem](https://poets.org/poem/there-will-come-soft-rains)
> 
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